


perfect for you

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:59:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3117683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Have you met them?” Grantaire asked lowly.</p><p>Enjolras shook his head ever so slightly. “I don’t care much about,” he sighed and blew a curl out of his face, “soulmates.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	perfect for you

“Fuck… do that again…”

Grantaire smiled and nipped at sweaty skin. This guy, Enjolras, his name was Enjolras, he was one of a kind. Way out of Grantaire’s league too, but he was _so_ done questioning that.

Honestly, guys like Enjolras usually didn’t go to seedy establishments such as the one where Grantaire had picked him up at. Those bars, those clubs, they were frequented by alcoholics wanting cheap drinks and petty crooks looking for a quiet place to do their business.

Grantaire usually went there to find distractions, and for the cheap drinks, or for lonely people who looked for some kind of escape just for the night.

Enjolras hadn’t seemed particularly lonely. But he hadn’t seemed to be lost either. He’d walked into the Corinthe, had looked around, smiling when his eyes had settled on Grantaire. They’d had a drink together, then they’d left.

Grantaire had never before wanted to ask anyone how they’d ended up at the Corinthe, but people usually didn’t just walk in there by accident, and Enjolras definitely didn’t belong there. He’d lit up the whole room when he’d stepped inside, blond curls flowing, his eyes a radiant blue, his red jacket standing out amidst the browns and blacks and grays. Grantaire wanted to know what had led such a lovely creature to such a dark place.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras grit out, his fingers tightening in Grantaire’s hair, “there’s no need…” He drew in a sharp breath when Grantaire thrust into him without a warning. “To be gentle,” he finished. Enjolras threw his head back, letting out a low moan. “Just like that.” His legs wrapped around Grantaire, keeping him close, whispered oaths dropping from his lips all the while. He reached down to wrap his fingers around his cock, but Grantaire caught his hands and pinned them to the mattress, setting a relentless pace.

Enjolras squirmed underneath him, moaned and whimpered, there might have even been a _please_ somewhere in between. Enjolras hadn’t struck Grantaire as someone who used that word a lot. He’d been pretty clear about what he wanted.

“Let’s go to your place,” he’d said, so that was where Grantaire had taken him, mumbling apologies about the mess in his apartment that Enjolras didn’t seem to have cared much about.

Enjolras hadn’t been too gentle when he’d tugged off Grantaire’s clothes. When he’d pulled him into a rough kiss, he’d been a little clumsy, though, maybe even nervous – the only giveaway that he didn’t actually do this very often.

Grantaire was intrigued, not only by Enjolras’ looks, but also by how he’d managed to get exactly what he wanted without even having to try very hard. He had a charming smile and a way with words and he knew exactly how to use that to get what he wanted.

The only thing that had come as a surprise to Grantaire was that _he_ was what Enjolras had wanted.

Admittedly, Grantaire was actually pretty good at this. The fact that Enjolras was panting and clutching at the sheets and that he apparently wasn’t able to say anything anymore was proof for exactly that. But Enjolras couldn’t have known that beforehand.

He gasped, tilted his hips up as best as he could to meet Grantaire’s thrusts. “Touch me,” he whispered, and he quite obviously wasn’t asking him, he was demanding it, and Grantaire was more than happy to oblige.

Grantaire let go of one of Enjolras’ hands and curled his fingers around his cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts until he came with a drawn-out moan, Grantaire following close behind, allowing himself to remain pressed flush against Enjolras for a moment to catch his breath.

He rolled off him eventually, his eyes on Enjolras, who hadn’t moved an inch, his breath still coming quickly, a faint smile on his face.

Usually Grantaire would slip out of bed now, mumble something about taking a shower and hope that whoever he’d brought home wouldn’t be there after he was done. Then he’d strip off the sheets, or maybe he’d just go straight to bed and pass out. Maybe he’d have a drink first.

But Enjolras, well, Grantaire wouldn’t mind if he stayed a little while longer. So he stayed in bed, only quickly chucked his condom into the trashcan next to his bed and fished his boxers off the floor to wipe off his hands and to clean up the mess on Enjolras’ stomach.

Enjolras’ eyes fluttered open at that. “Thank you,” he muttered.

Grantaire snorted. “You know, of all the things that people have said to me in bed, _thank you_ definitely wasn’t one of them.”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “Well, this was nice.”

“It was,” Grantaire agreed, propping himself up on his elbow. “And there’s no reason we can’t do it again.”

“Give me a minute,” Enjolras said, smiling as he rolled into his stomach, his face half-hidden by the curls tumbling over his eyes.

Grantaire hummed. “I’ll give you five,” he said, winking at him. “Maybe ten.” He reached out and slowly traced patterns on Enjolras’ skin, down his spine, to the small birthmark on the small of his back.

Enjolras looked up, obviously knowing exactly where Grantaire’s fingers were lingering, staring at him almost defiantly.

“Have you met them?” Grantaire asked lowly.

Enjolras shook his head ever so slightly. “I don’t care much about,” he sighed and blew a curl out of his face, “ _soulmates_.”

“It’s a nice mark,” Grantaire said conversationally, tracing the outline with his fingertip. “It looks a bit like a splotch of ink, I like that. You know, my friend once told me that his looks like a dick, but I’m pretty sure he was just fucking with me.”

“They’re really not that important,” Enjolras said, disdain creeping into his voice. “They’re just marks.”

“You’re not a believer, huh?”

“Are you?” Enjolras shot back.

Grantaire laughed. “Certainly not.” He smirked, watching as Enjolras’ eyes slowly wandered down his body. “What are you looking for?”

“Nothing,” Enjolras said innocently.

“Right,” Grantaire said, nodding. “Because they’re just marks.”

Enjolras gave him a defiant glance in return.

“You’re not gonna find it anyway,” Grantaire said lightly.

“You don’t have one?”

Grantaire shook his head. “Oh, I do have one.”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes, holding Grantaire’s gaze for a few long seconds before he reached out to touch the black wings tattooed on his back and his upper arms. He was getting the idea. It wasn’t hidden under the wings, though, but he wouldn’t tell Enjolras that.

In fact, he wouldn’t say another word about it. Saying these things out loud could get him in trouble, and trouble was the last thing he was looking for tonight.

Enjolras only grinned and Grantaire had no doubt that he knew just how fucking illegal it was to permanently cover up soulmarks. For some reason he seemed to approve. Still, Grantaire had ground rules, and those included not having serious talks about those godforsaken marks.

He wouldn’t have brought it up under different circumstances, but Enjolras’ mark had been right there, not hidden, almost like he’d wanted him to see. Because they were just birthmarks. It was pretty imprudent to say such a thing, especially when you didn’t know the person you were talking to. You never knew who might fuck you over.

“What?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire only shook his head and grabbed Enjolras by the hips, pulling him on top of him. “Let’s not talk anymore.”

* * *

**1 year later**

“I met a guy last night, he’s interested in…” Bahorel trailed off and leaned against the counter, wiggling his eyebrows, “your services.”

“Why _my_ services?” Grantaire asked. He rolled his eyes. “Honestly, it’s not like you can’t do it.”

“We both know that I’m not as good as you are,” Bahorel replied and gave him a pat on the back. “They’re coming by tomorrow afternoon.”

“They?” Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “I thought it was just one guy.”

“Well, one guy and his girlfriend.

“They want matching marks?” Grantaire guessed.

“They want to get married. Can’t do that if their marks don’t match.”

“And we can trust them?”

Bahorel nodded.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Pretty sure,” Bahorel said with a shrug. “I mean, were we ever one hundred percent sure about any of those people?”

Grantaire hummed. Bahorel did have a point. They’d started doing this a while ago, sometime after they’d opened the studio.  At first, Grantaire had covered up the little mark on the inside of his wrist and after a while people had approached him. It had happened once every couple of months that someone had asked him to cover their marks or to give them a new one so they could be with people whose soulmark didn’t match theirs.

If anyone ever found out, they’d probably get locked up and they’d never see the light of day again. It was a risky business, now even more than it used to be with people growing restless and fed up with the system. Government officials came to check up on them, made sure that they put tattoos only where they were allowed to put them.

When they asked Grantaire where his mark was, he told them that he didn’t have one. It usually earned him pitying looks more than suspicious ones.

Anyway, it wasn’t like he was doing illegal shit out in the open when someone could just walk in and see it. Grantaire really didn’t have that much of a death wish. Chances were that he might not be able to do it that much longer anyway.

There were rumors about a law that would require every person to register their soulmarks. To make it easier for people to find their soulmates, they said.

Grantaire didn’t like the idea. People had a pretty easy time finding their soulmates already if they really wanted to. The internet did wonders for that. Once that law was passed, getting fake marks or hiding them wouldn’t do it anymore, there’d need to be forged papers, people who could hack into the government’s databases. What Grantaire did would only be the beginning of a much longer struggle.

Bahorel snorted, interrupting Grantaire’s train of thought. “Look at that guy,” Bahorel said. “Do you think he’s lost?” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you think he came around to snoop?”

Grantaire turned around to sneak a peek at the guy that Bahorel was talking about, nearly falling off his chair when he saw him. “What the…” It was Enjolras, same red jacket, same blond curls, same piercing blue eyes, now staring up at the sign above the door.

“Have you seen him before?”

“I have,” Grantaire said lowly. He honestly couldn’t believe this. When Enjolras had slipped out of his bed in the cold light of morning a little less than a year ago, Grantaire had been sure that he’d never see him again. And now he was standing right outside, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, his cheeks red from the cold.

Grantaire had no idea what the hell Enjolras was doing here. He certainly hadn’t come here because of _him_. Maybe he just wanted to get a tattoo. People from all over town came to them, so why shouldn’t Enjolras. It could just be a coincidence.

Going by the surprised look on Enjolras’ face when he peered in through the glass window and spotted Grantaire it probably was. His eyes went wide and he looked rather unsure about whether or not he actually wanted to step inside all of a sudden.

Grantaire tilted his head, raising his eyebrows.

Enjolras’ lips gave a twitch, then he pulled the door open, nodding at them as he came walking inside. “You two own this place?”

“We do,” Bahorel said when Grantaire failed to reply. “How can we help you?”

Enjolras held up a piece of paper. “I’m Enjolras and my friend told me to pay you a visit. His name is Jehan.”

“You know Jehan?” Grantaire asked. He knew Jehan well, they hung out every now and then, they’d spent entire nights talking, but he’d never even mentioned Enjolras or that he’d told him about their studio. 

“He’s part of our group,” Enjolras said, eyeing Bahorel warily. “That’s actually what I came to talk to you about.”

“Look, whatever your group is doing,” Grantaire said, “we want no part of it.”

Enjolras glanced from Bahorel back to Grantaire. “I’d ask you to hear me out first,” Enjolras said, his voice steady as if he was doing this all the time. “Jehan said you were helping people by covering their–”

“Alright,” Bahorel interrupted, “you need to stop right there.”

Enjolras pursed his lips. “If you could just–”

“You heard him,” Grantaire said, beckoning him to come closer, leaning over the counter so he was face to face with Enjolras. “What we do here is none of your business. We don’t discuss it with…” He bit his lip. He’d meant to say strangers, but that wasn’t exactly what Grantaire would call him. Grantaire shook his head. “Anyway, if you want to get a tattoo, be our guest. But that’s all we can help you with.”

“Is there some other place we can talk?” Enjolras asked, keeping his eyes fixed on Grantaire. “This is important.”

“Come back when we’ve closed up,” Bahorel said and led Enjolras back over to the door. “Just knock, we’ll let you in. Then we’ll give you five minutes.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras said stiffly. He looked back at Grantaire. “It was nice to see you again, Grantaire.”

“Likewise,” Grantaire tipped an invisible hat, “ _Enjolras_.”

The second the door had fallen shut behind Enjolras, Bahorel turned back around and rolled his eyes at Grantaire. “You’ve slept with the dude who’s trying to rope us into some kind of shit, haven’t you?”

Grantaire shrugged. “That was ages ago.” He wouldn’t admit that he still thought about Enjolras every now and then.

“What the hell did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Grantaire said defensively. He bit his lip. “He might have figured out that my soulmark is covered up, but he said that Jehan sent him, so it probably doesn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Maybe he wants his covered, though? I think that’s what he tried to ask about.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Grantaire muttered. He remembered trailing his fingers over Enjolras’ mark. _Like a splotch of ink_. Enjolras hadn’t cared about it at all.

* * *

Grantaire wasn’t surprised at all when Enjolras appeared outside the door right when Grantaire had been about to lock up.

Part of him had been hoping that he might not come back, but at the same time he was glad to see him again. Because that meant that he hadn’t got robbed out there. If you looked like Enjolras and came to this part of town, it was something you needed to expect.

Grantaire let him in and pointed at the curtain behind the counter. “Backroom,” he muttered and locked the door, glancing outside to make sure no one was lurking in some alley across the street before he followed Enjolras to the backroom.

The backroom was actually their office and also served as a kitchen, which was comprised of a mini-fridge and a microwave, and they had an old leather sofa back there – Grantaire had spent many nights on that one. Now Enjolras was perched on the edge of it, eyeing Bahorel, who’d taken a seat on the desk. Grantaire remained leaning in the doorway. Their office would be a little too cramped with the three of them in there.

“Well,” Bahorel said, “I suppose you’re here about all that stuff we don’t really advertise on our website.”

Enjolras nodded curtly. “That is exactly what I’m here for.”

“Do you want it covered? Or a new one to match someone else’s?” Bahorel asked.

Enjolras’ eyes went wide. “You do tattoos that look like soulmarks?”

“Look,” Grantaire said before Bahorel could reply, “I just want to make this clear. No one can know about what we’re talking about in here. No one can know about _any_ of this.” He tugged his fingers through his hair. “And yes, we do tattoos that look like soulmarks.”

“Grantaire does,” Bahorel corrected.

Enjolras’ icy blue eyes wandered back over to Grantaire.

“So is that what–”

“I’m not here for a tattoo,” Enjolras interrupted. “Look, I’m part of a group, we advocate a change of the soulmark laws, we want everyone to be free to be with whoever they want to be. And since Jehan told me what you’re doing, how you help people, I thought you might be interested in–”

“We’re not,” Grantaire interrupted.

Bahorel raised his eyebrows. “We’re not?”

Grantaire chose to ignore him for now and turned back to Enjolras. “It sounds to me like what you’re doing and what we are doing are two very, _very_ different things. What we do here? It’s really fucking illegal and I want no part of whatever it is you’re promoting because it’s pretty likely to send my ass straight to jail even faster.”

“All I’d ask of you would be to talk to people, to let them know that they have other options until we manage to change the laws.”

“Change the laws?” Grantaire echoed. “Those laws have been in effect for ages, you can’t just change them. You can’t just change how people think.”

“The people have a voice,” Enjolras said gruffly, “and the elections are only about a year away.”

Grantaire huffed out a laugh. “Right.”

Enjolras was glaring daggers at him and Grantaire couldn’t say that he minded. Having Enjolras’ eyes boring into him wasn’t as unsettling as it should have been. Grantaire wished he’d never look away.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes and turned to look at Bahorel. “We meet at the Café Musain on Wednesday evenings. Just tell Louison that you’re looking for Enjolras, she’ll show you where we are.”

“We’re not gonna join your super secret anarchist group,” Grantaire said with a roll of his eyes.

“We’ll think about it,” Bahorel said, and for a second Grantaire wasn’t sure if he was saying it because he wanted to get rid of Enjolras or because he was actually considering joining some idealist student group who thought they could change the world.

“Thank you,” Enjolras said, sparing Bahorel a smile. “It’d be great to have you on board.”

“Do you need an escort to the metro station?” Grantaire asked.

“I think I’ll make it,” Enjolras replied as he stood up. “Thank you for your time,” he added, staring down at Grantaire defiantly before he squeezed past him.

Grantaire trailed after him to unlock the door for him. “It was nice to see you again,” Grantaire said, winking at him.

“I can’t say the same.”

Grantaire snorted. “I agree that meeting again under different circumstances might have been more pleasant.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and walked outside, pulling his red coat tightly around himself. “Wednesday evening,” he said.

“No fucking way,” Grantaire replied cheerfully and kicked the door shut.

* * *

“You’re going?” Grantaire asked, watching Bahorel as he shrugged on his leather jacket. He just wore that thing all year round, never mind the temperatures.

Bahorel shrugged. “Well, it can’t hurt to see what they’re all about.”

“Well, you could be wasting a couple of precious hours of your life.”

“But they have really great coffee at the Musain,” Bahorel said with a shrug. “Aren’t you at least a little bit interested? I mean, you and that Enjolras dude…”

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“I don’t know, man.” Bahorel grinned. “It just didn’t look like you never wanted to see him again. It looked more like the opposite, actually.”

“That doesn’t mean that I’m gonna go this social justice bullshit meeting.”

But Grantaire did go, because Bahorel did have a point, he wanted to see Enjolras again, and he needed to make sure that Bahorel didn’t accidentally join a cult, or whatever it was that Enjolras was the leader of.

Their meeting was in the backroom. Of course it was in the backroom. You couldn’t just complain about soulmarks out in the open.

Well, obviously there were different kinds of complaining.

There were little girls and boys who wanted nothing more than to find their soulmate. There were agencies that could help you with that in exchange for a horrendous fee. Some people just put a picture of their soulmark on their fucking Facebook page. There were people who asked others to see theirs the second they started talking to them. Now, if you complained about not having found your soulmate yet, no one would even bat an eye.

People who hadn’t found their soulmates were pitied.

If you challenged the system, however, you were frowned upon. If you decided not to look for your soulmate, if you decided not to be with them even if you’d found them, you were a danger to society. Obviously you had the right to think whatever you wanted, people hadn’t entirely forgotten about free speech, but it was pretty likely that if you voiced your opinion too loudly, you’d end up beaten bloody in an alleyway at some point.

People had often rebelled in the past, which was why there were so many laws now. You could only marry your soulmate – you needed to get your mark registered in order to get a marriage license. Couples that were together even when their marks didn’t match fared better when they pretended that they did have the same soulmark.

Things had changed a lot during the last couple of years, but soulmate couples did enjoy benefits that others did not receive. Only if they weren’t a same-sex soulmate couple, though.

Well, as far as Grantaire was concerned, the whole system was pretty much fucked and it would take a miracle to change anything about it. And a bunch of students in a dingy backroom certainly weren’t enough for that.

They had made a valiant effort to make the room look a little less dingy, though. They’d hung up a couple of string lights and there were colorful posters stuck to the walls, actual works of art that turned out to be announcements for protests when Grantaire took a closer look later on.

When Grantaire and Bahorel arrived, the meeting had apparently already started. Curious faces stared at them, together with one annoyed one, which obviously belonged to Enjolras. His expression quickly changed when he saw that it was Grantaire and Bahorel who were standing in the doorway. “You came,” he said and stood up. He made his way over to them, shaking hands with them.

“Enjolras,” a guy with dark curly hair said, craning his neck to get a better look at them, “why don’t you introduce us?”

“Right, this his Bahorel and his, um, colleague, Grantaire,” Enjolras said, giving Grantaire a look that very explicitly let him know that talking about the night they’d spent together all those months ago would lead to his imminent death.

“Oh, are you the guys that Jehan mentioned?” the bald guy in the corner asked.

Enjolras nodded, pointing at bald guy. “That’s Bossuet, next to him is his boyfriend Joly. Their girlfriend couldn’t make it today, she’s a cook and sometimes works late shifts and–”

“And sometimes she brings food,” curly-haired guy threw in.

There was an appreciative hum all around the table.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Enjolras said, “the guy who can’t stop talking for longer than a minute is Courfeyrac and that over there is his boyfriend Combeferre.”

A guy in glasses and a sweater that would have made Grantaire’s granddad jealous waved at them. “Have a seat,” he said.

They did, ordered drinks when the waitress, Louison, came to the backroom, and listened to Courfeyrac rant about the new law that was very likely going to be passed, ripping at the sheets of paper that were lying in front of him on the table.

“You know, they’re all like, oh, you have to register your soulmarks the day you’re born so we can make sure you have to be with some random person who happens to have the same birthmark as you do and not with someone you actually love,” he said, glaring down at what Grantaire supposed was a copy of the bill in question. “I mean, I can’t even get married to the person I love even though we have the same soulmark because _we’re both dudes_.”

Combeferre patted his back and leaned over to give him a kiss.

Grantaire looked at them for a moment, thinking about what his parents and probably Courfeyrac’s and Combeferre’s parents had told them before they’d even started elementary school – if another boy has the same soulmark as you do, it’s just a freak of nature, he’s not really your soulmate, because two boys can’t be soulmates.

Grantaire understood why Jehan hung out with these guys. They were nice enough and even though they took the abolishment of soulmark laws quite seriously, they were also joking around a lot and Grantaire found that Joly and Bossuet were probably quite capable of drinking him under the table.

Enjolras stayed at the other end of the table with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, glancing over at them every now and then when there was an especially loud outburst of laughter. He left early and said goodbye to everyone, thanked Bahorel for coming, and Grantaire too, but rather stiffly.

Grantaire had a feeling that Enjolras would have preferred if Bahorel had come on his own, which was why he _obviously_ had to come back the following Wednesday. And the Wednesday after that.

They were starting to plan some sort of awareness campaign and Grantaire was never actually helpful, just bought himself a bottle of beer and listened to whatever ridiculous thing Enjolras had come up with. He also met Feuilly and Musichetta, Courfeyrac’s friend Marius joined them for one meeting, but Enjolras didn’t actually seem to be too happy about him being there – possibly because Marius kept going on and on about how he was _so_ sure that he’d found his soulmate.

Grantaire thought it was delightful and the way that Enjolras’ face went all red every time Grantaire said something completely useless or started rambling was pretty hilarious as well.

Enjolras also still seemed to be set on pretending that the night they’d spent together had never happened.

He did remember where Grantaire lived, though.

Enjolras showed up on his doorstep on the Friday after the fourth meeting Grantaire had attended, once again wrapped in his red jacket.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire said, raising his eyebrows, “what the fuck are you doing here?” He’d been about to go buy some wine, get incredibly fucking wasted and maybe go out later and do God-knows-what. Well, that could wait.

“I need to talk to you,” Enjolras replied. “Can I come in?”

Grantaire stepped aside, not even worried about the state of his apartment. It hadn’t looked much better the last time Enjolras had been here. He led him into his living room that was mostly dominated by books and empty takeout cartons.

Enjolras kept a remarkably straight face and sat down on the couch, only quirking an eyebrow when Hades left his place on the windowsill and curled up in Enjolras’ lap, purring when he scratched him behind the ears.

“Since when do you have a cat?” Enjolras asked.

“I’ve had him for about four years,” Grantaire said dryly. “Jehan and Bahorel gave him to me for my birthday. So yes, I had him a year ago when you were last here, but he’s not allowed in the bedroom, so…” Grantaire trailed off and shrugged. “Can I get you anything? Beer, vodka, water, coffee, ramen noodles?”

Enjolras pursed his lips. “I’m good, thank you.”

Grantaire though it probably wouldn’t go over well if he got himself a drink, so he simply sat down next to Enjolras. “So, what’s up?”

“I know someone who needs a new soulmark to match someone else’s,” Enjolras said without preamble. “Bahorel told me to come talk to you.”

“Sure, we can arrange an appointment for that. Just tell them to bring their… partner, or whatever.” Grantaire shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“But it’s illegal,” Enjolras said, staring at him intently.

“Wow, do you wanna go outside and shout it from the rooftops?” Grantaire asked, rolling his eyes.

Enjolras let out an annoyed huff. “Well, I just thought… I don’t know, can you even do that during regular hours?”

“No, we’ll hide in a dingy basement in the dead of the night.” Grantaire bit his lip, trying not to laugh at the face that Enjolras was making. “Look, they’ll come over and we’ll do it in the back. Bahorel will be behind the counter, no one comes back there until we’re done. Obviously they’ll also have to get an actual tattoo to cover up their actual soulmark.”

Enjolras nodded. “How much do you charge?”

“It really depends on the size, how long it takes…” He trailed off and narrowed his eyes. “You want me to do it for free, don’t you?”

Enjolras made an attempt at staring him down, but eventually sighed and leaned back. “We do our best to help people financially if they want to be with someone who isn’t their soulmate, but our funds are limited. My parents…” Enjolras cleared his throat. “They do provide me with substantial amounts, because I told them that I help people find their soulmates.”

Grantaire snorted. Maybe Enjolras was just a tiny little bit brilliant.

“Technically, it’s not a lie,” Enjolras went on. “I just use the term soulmate very loosely.”

“Well, it’s not even clear what constitutes a soulmate. I mean, some person once figured out that they had the same birthmark as some other person and he was like, oh wow, we must be soulmates. It could be complete bullshit. Actually it _is_ complete bullshit. But why am I telling you that, I mean, you’re fighting to destroy the system.”

“Yes, and you think I never will, but you still come to our meetings every single week,” Enjolras said, his lips curling into a smile. “Why do you do that?”

“I just don’t have anything better to do,” Grantaire said lightly. “So, you think your soulmate is out there somewhere? Matching mark or not.”

“I suppose,” Enjolras said. “But I don’t believe that there’s only one single person for everyone out there. And I don’t think everyone has to end up with their soulmate. Everyone should be able to choose who they want to be with or _not_ be with without any birthmarks involved.”

Well, Grantaire had to admit that he agreed, but that wasn’t how their society worked and where one person thought that Enjolras was right, about a thousand thought he was misguided.

“Things are going to change,” Enjolras said when Grantaire didn’t reply.

“Yeah, maybe in a couple of hundred years,” Grantaire grumbled. He just couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Enjolras to be right, but if he looked at things realistically, it just wasn’t very likely.

“Oh, please. People’s attitudes are changing. Senator Lamarque–”

“Lamarque might not be the same stuck up bastard that most of the other senators are, but one person isn’t going to do any good. And, by the way, he just doesn’t want that law to be passed, he never said anything about wanting to abolish each and every soulmate law.”

“Well, that law would be a huge step backwards, so don’t you think it’s a good thing if someone as influential and well-known as Senator Lamarque is on our side?”

“I never said that wasn’t a good thing. I’m just saying, he’s not going to change the world on his own. And he’s definitely not going to fight for your cause after this is over.”

“How do you know that?” Enjolras asked. “Maybe we can convince him.”

Grantaire only hummed. _Not likely_.

Enjolras made a face and somehow managed to still look ridiculously attractive at the same time. “How can you help people the way you do and be so negative?”

“Well, I can help people out and be realistic, yes, realistic, not _negative_ , at the same time.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“I know, right?” Grantaire said, wiggling his eyebrows at him.

“No, I’m serious,” Enjolras folded his arms across his chest, “why do you have to be like this?”

Grantaire groaned. “You were so much more pleasant when you were just moaning my name and not… picking on me for not being completely delusional.”

“Picking on you?” Enjolras echoed. “We’re not five years old. Although sometimes you actually make a quite convincing kindergartener.”

Grantaire snorted. “Like you don’t.”

“Oh, please,” Enjolras spat, looking very much like he was pouting again.

“We should just revert to drinking,” Grantaire said lowly.

“I don’t drink.”

“You did when we first met.”

“That was just one drink,” Enjolras said matter-of-factly. He shrugged. “I didn’t… I don’t usually go home with people I’ve met at some bar. I didn’t know the protocol.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Grantaire whispered.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. “I should probably leave.”

“Fine,” Grantaire said. “Just tell your people to come by sometime.”

“Great.” Enjolras nodded. “Well,” he added, inching a little closer, “I’m gonna leave now.”

“I’ll take you to the door,” Grantaire muttered, not moving an inch.

Enjolras stayed right where he was as well, his blue eyes fixed on Grantaire, his gaze never wavering, not even for a second.

Grantaire stared right back at him, but eventually cleared his throat. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

* * *

Now that Grantaire had got the chance to get to know Enjolras a little better during the last couple of weeks, he’d eventually come to the conclusion that Enjolras probably never slept. The sheer amount of work he got done in addition to his studies and his part-time job at the student paper was quite frankly astounding.

Grantaire had never even seen him look tired. He always had a cup of coffee attached to his hand, though, so maybe that was why.

Right now, however, Enjolras was fast asleep. Grantaire’s bedsheets were tangled around his waist, his breathing was even and he looked more relaxed than Grantaire had ever seen him.

To be quite honest, Grantaire had been a little surprised that Enjolras hadn’t slipped right back out of bed and pulled his clothes back on to head home like he had last time, all those months ago. He probably needed the rest and Grantaire certainly wasn’t going to throw him out.

Grantaire stood up and grabbed for the pack of cigarettes on the bedside table to make up for the bottle of wine he hadn’t got around to buying and sat down by the window to smoke.

Enjolras didn’t stir and Grantaire was slowly but surely getting used to the idea of Enjolras spending the night in his bed. No one who went home with Grantaire usually stuck around for too long. Grantaire understood – he wouldn’t spend more time with himself than strictly necessary either.

Grantaire’s gaze slowly wandered down Enjolras’ spine, lingering on his soulmark for a moment. Grantaire couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have a soulmate like Enjolras. Then again, Enjolras didn’t believe in the whole soulmate business anyway.

Grantaire had wondered about his soulmate when he was younger. He was pretty sure that everyone did at some point, especially when all you heard from your parents was how important it was to find your soulmate, how fulfilling it was to be with them. It was presented as the ultimate goal of everyone’s life. People who didn’t find their soulmates, people who didn’t even have marks, they’d failed.

Grantaire’s parents had matching marks, but Grantaire would never call them soulmates. He was pretty sure that they would have fared better if they’d chosen to be with someone who wasn’t their soulmate. They’d failed as well, but in an entirely different way.

They’d fought each and every day, terrible fights that had ended with doors banging and his mother crying and Grantaire hiding in his room. That was how he’d realized that soulmates weren’t necessarily perfect for each other. He’d started to think that finding one’s soulmate didn’t guarantee happiness and he’d figured out that the system that everyone believed in ultimately failed everyone.  

So he’d never looked for his soulmate. Maybe he didn’t even have one, but Grantaire didn’t care much about that. He’d never wanted to be with anyone for a prolonged amount of time, although he’d make an exception for Enjolras.

He was completely in awe of Enjolras’ vigor, he loved listening to Enjolras talk about this new world, this new society he so desperately wanted to see, although he’d never tell Enjolras that.

Grantaire sighed and then stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill, slowly wandering back over to his bed, slipping back under the covers without rousing Enjolras. Grantaire knew that it was pathetic, but he felt so lucky because he’d been allowed to spend another night with Enjolras.

He wrapped an arm around him against his better judgement, smiling when Enjolras shifted closer.

In the morning, Enjolras left quickly, didn’t take Grantaire up on his offer to use his shower, just gulped down the cup of coffee that Grantaire handed to him, and thanked him before he was out the door.

Grantaire met up with the people that Enjolras sent and then went to the meeting on Wednesday evening as usual. Enjolras’ lips twitched ever so slightly when Grantaire slid into his chair, but other than that he didn’t say a word to him until Grantaire couldn’t help but mention that the petition he was planning on setting up wouldn’t get nearly as many signatures as they needed.

They weren’t exactly shouting this time, so it wasn’t as bad as the week before, but at some point Bahorel just gave him a nudge and Grantaire let it go.

He had drinks with Joly and Bossuet after the meeting, but kept sneaking Enjolras glances until he eventually left with Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

“So,” Bossuet said and gave him a pat on the back, “Enjolras, huh?”

“What about Enjolras?” Grantaire asked. Well, maybe he’d been a little too obvious with the staring.

“It’s okay,” Joly said and poured him some more wine, “we get it.”

“Not that we’re into Enjolras, but…” Bossuet trailed off, shrugging. “We still get it. I mean, he’s a bit scary sometimes, but he also has that hair…”

“And those eyes,” Joly added.

“Yeah,” Bossuet said, nodding gravely.

* * *

When Grantaire walked home from work on Saturday evening, he bought himself way too much Chinese takeout and was slowly but surely starting to regret that he’d told Bahorel that he’d stay in when he found Enjolras sitting at the top of the stairs leading up to his apartment.

“Are you lost?” Grantaire asked, carefully stepping around Enjolras to unlock the door.

Enjolras let out a low grumble. “Are you busy?” He stood up, following Grantaire into his apartment. He picked up Hades, watching as Grantaire toed off his shoes and shrugged off his leather jacket.

“Busy as in having plans tonight?” Grantaire pushed the door shut and Enjolras, still fully clothed, came walking into his living room behind him and sat Hades down on his favorite armchair. Enjolras couldn’t have known that it was where Hades spent most of his time, but it still made Grantaire smile.

“Yes, that,” Enjolras mumbled, hovering next to the couch. It was funny how he’d just marched into Grantaire’s flat but was now waiting for some sort of invitation.

“Well, I’m gonna eat first if you don’t mind,” Grantaire said and pointed to the plastic bag that was overflowing with takeout boxes. “Do you want some?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“I’ll get you a fork,” Grantaire mumbled and did exactly that, shared his dinner with Enjolras, keeping himself from asking him about his day. They briefly talked about the weather instead, then Grantaire pulled him to his feet and led him back down the hall.

It felt familiar now, it was easy, and for once Enjolras let Grantaire take the lead.

This time Enjolras didn’t stay, but it was late when he eventually untangled himself from Grantaire and his bedsheets and got up. Before he could leave, Grantaire cleared his throat.

Enjolras turned around, only raising his eyebrows in question.

“Is this gonna be a regular thing?” Grantaire asked. He wasn’t so sure if he wanted to know the answer. Maybe he should just go with it, but he was curious. He wanted to know why Enjolras kept coming to him, even though he thought that Grantaire was nothing but a nuisance. “You know,” Grantaire went on, “you showing up here at random times, spending the night. Or at least a couple of hours.”

“We could make it a regular thing,” Enjolras said lowly. “If you’re not opposed, that is.”

“Nah, that would be fine with me.” Grantaire had tried to sound casual, but he was quite sure that his voice had betrayed him.

“We’re not telling anyone,” Enjolras said, and there was absolutely no room for arguing there.

“Fine,” Grantaire said as nonchalantly as he could manage.

Enjolras nodded and then he was out the door.

He came back on Tuesday and left again two hours later, one time he came by on a Sunday afternoon, then two more Saturday evenings. Enjolras never spent the night. They didn’t talk much, not even at the meetings, he only spared Grantaire a disdainful look every now and again when he dared to speak up.

Enjolras never went home with him after meetings either. It was probably a precaution to make sure that no one would find out about them.

Well, one time he showed up at Grantaire’s about two hours after the meeting had ended.

“Why don’t you want them to know?” Grantaire asked then. His fingers were circling the mark on Enjolras’ back again. Grantaire liked the way it looked and he just count keep his hands off it.

Enjolras didn’t seem to mind. He always stayed perfectly still, his face half-hidden in the crook of his elbow, his breathing slow and even. Grantaire had often thought that he’d fallen asleep, but at one point or another Enjolras had always sat up rather abruptly, announcing that he had to leave.

Now he only looked up, holding Grantaire’s gaze for a long moment. “It’s none of anyone’s business,” he said eventually. With a drawn-out sigh he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. “Does it bother you?”

“No, I was just wondering,” Grantaire muttered and lay back down as well, wondering when Enjolras would leave today.

It was late already and Enjolras probably had classes in the morning – he was definitely the kind of person who signed up for morning classes and actually went to them.

“I did tell Combeferre and Courfeyrac,” Enjolras said lowly. “They were worried when I kept,” he smiled faintly, “ _disappearing_.”

“I see,” Grantaire said, grinning. He hadn’t told Bahorel. He hadn’t told Jehan either. The two of them had just figured it out on their own somehow and hadn’t stopped asking him the most ridiculous questions ever since, but so far Grantaire had tried to pretend that he didn’t know what they were talking about.

Enjolras bit his lip. “I just don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“Because it’s not, I get it,” Grantaire muttered.

“Don’t think that I’m not enjoying myself,” Enjolras said, inching a little closer so he could pull Grantaire into a kiss. “Really.”

“I’m glad I can be of service,” Grantaire said dryly.

“Don’t be like that,” Enjolras grumbled.

“Well, it’s not like you let me help out with anything else.”

“I did let you help out. I’m sure you remember what happened.”

“I just got a little sidetracked,” Grantaire said gruffly. “I would have gone and talked to your guy eventually.”

“Of course…” Enjolras huffed and pulled up the duvet. “Do you mind if I…?”

“I have to get up for work in the morning, but feel free to stay as long as you want,” Grantaire mumbled and reached out to switch off the bedside lamp. He was a little surprised, but it had been ice-cold and windy outside when Enjolras had got here earlier, so Grantaire couldn’t blame him for not wanting to leave.

Enjolras was pleasantly warm next to him, even though they were barely even touching, and when Grantaire was slowly but surely starting to drift off to sleep, an arm very tentatively snuck around his waist.

It took Grantaire ages to finally fall asleep.

In the morning he was woken up not by his own blaring phone but by Enjolras’. Grantaire gave him a nudge with which he was trying to get Enjolras to turn it off or to answer it or do whatever it took to silence it.

Enjolras groaned but moved quickly, hopping out of bed, shivering a little in the cold morning air. He fished his phone out of his jeans, still in a heap on the floor.

He frowned at his phone for a split-second before he answered. “Hello?”

Grantaire watched as his expression changed from confused to stony to something he couldn’t quite name as Enjolras listened to whoever had called him at – Grantaire turned to look at his alarm clock – 7:13 in the morning.

Once Grantaire turned back to look at Enjolras, he’d already started pulling his clothes on. “I have to go, I’ll…” Enjolras shook his head ever so slightly, then he pulled one of Grantaire’s shirts over his head, apparently not even noticing the huge Iron Maiden logo on the front.

Admittedly, Grantaire was confused about Enjolras’ strange departure, but didn’t find out what was going on until later on when Bahorel told him that someone had shot Senator Lamarque when he’d left his house in the morning, which definitely explained the phone call and why Enjolras had left in such a hurry.

“Apparently he’s still alive, but…” Bahorel shrugged. “It’s not looking too good.”

Grantaire wasn’t sure what to think. Maybe it was something they should have been expecting.

“Enjolras is probably pretty upset.”

Grantaire eyed Bahorel suspiciously. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going with this, but it hadn’t quite sounded like some offhand comment. “Probably,” Grantaire said warily.

Bahorel leaned a little closer, pushing the tattoo designs that Grantaire had been working on aside. “Have you asked him if he’s alright?”

“Why would I?” Grantaire asked.

“Well, I thought that the massive crush you have on him might’ve compelled you to do that,” Bahorel replied and gave him a pat on the bag. “Or, y’know, maybe just because you’re concerned for his well-being as his,” he grinned, “ _friend_.”

“Right, because Enjolras and I are such good friends.”

Bahorel snorted. “You are _something_.”

“Not friends.”

“Friends with benefits maybe.”

Grantaire bit his lip, but didn’t answer. Technically, that was exactly what they were, only that Grantaire probably shouldn’t have feelings for his friend with benefits.

“You could just admit it, you know,” Bahorel said. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure that Enjolras could need some cheering-up.”

“Please, Enjolras has never been cheerful in his entire life,” Grantaire grumbled. Not that he didn’t want to check on Enjolras. He did, but he wasn’t sure if that wouldn’t be crossing boundaries. Well, they actually hadn’t set any boundaries, but it had been abundantly clear from the start that this thing between them was about nothing other than sex.

So Grantaire went straight home after work, but he did check the news, to see if there was any indication of whether or not Lamarque was going to make it.

The next day there were a couple of posts on the group’s Facebook page. Again, Grantaire played with the thought of just writing Enjolras a quick message to ask how he was doing, but he was obviously busy and would probably just snap at him for keeping him from more important things.

On Saturday evening Grantaire had dinner with Bahorel and Jehan, but they headed home early, so Grantaire decided to waste away a couple of hours on the internet, which was where he eventually found out about Lamarque’s death shortly after midnight.

The news spread like wildfire and without even thinking about it Grantaire flipped his laptop shut and pulled on his coat, only realizing when he was out on the street that he had no idea where Enjolras even lived.

He sent a text to Jehan and started walking, receiving a reply about five minutes later. He hailed a cab and was standing in front of Enjolras’ building about twenty minutes later. The place looked like it cost a fucking fortune, but Grantaire really wasn’t here to guess how the hell Enjolras could afford to live here.

To be honest, Grantaire wasn’t actually sure what he was here for. There was no way in hell that he’d be able to make Enjolras feel better. Enjolras would probably slam the door shut in his face.

Grantaire should go back home. Actually, he shouldn’t have come here in the first place. But now that he was here, he might as well ring the doorbell.

He did, but nobody answered. Then he tried one more time, just because. That was when one of the windows on the second floor opened and Courfeyrac stared down at him.

“Grantaire?”

“Hey,” Grantaire said, waving awkwardly.

“Are you okay?” Courfeyrac asked, actually looking a little worried for a second.

“Yeah, I’m… I heard about Lamarque,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “I just wanted to check on…” He trailed off, biting his lip.

“Right,” Courfeyrac said, his lips twitching into a smile. “I’ll buzz you in.”

The door buzzed only a couple of seconds later and Grantaire very reluctantly went inside. At least he knew that he had to go up to the second floor, which was where he found Courfeyrac leaning in the door, quickly ushering him inside.

“Enjolras is in his room,” Courfeyrac said conversationally. “He won’t come out and he won’t talk to us. We’re not really sure what he’s doing in there. He let us help earlier, but now he’s just…” He shrugged. “We left some pasta for him outside the door earlier, but he didn’t eat it, so maybe you could try to convince him.”

“Actually…” Grantaire sighed. “You know, chances are that I’m the last person he wants to see.”

“Well, just give it a try,” Courfeyrac said, not-so-gently pushing him down the hall.

“And maybe try to convince him to take a nap,” Combeferre added.

Before Grantaire could tell them that Enjolras wouldn’t listen to him anyway, they’d reached the end of the hall and were standing in front of the door of what was presumably Enjolras’ room.

“Good luck,” Courfeyrac whispered, then he whisked Combeferre away and Grantaire was left standing in front of Enjolras’ door.

He slowly, very slowly, reached out to knock. Just like Grantaire had expected there was no reply, so he knocked again, a little more persistent this time. It was still quiet in Enjolras’ room, though, and Grantaire wasn’t so sure if Enjolras was actually in there.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire called tentatively.

The silence stretched on for a few more seconds, then the door opened a crack and Enjolras was looking at him with wide eyes. “Grantaire? What are you doing here?”

“I, um…” Grantaire tugged his fingers through his hair, not sure what to say. _I just came by to check on you_ sounded pretty ridiculous to him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Enjolras said stiffly.

“Are you sure about that?” Grantaire asked. “Combeferre and Courfeyrac seem to be a little worried about you.”

“I’m just busy,” Enjolras said. “There’s a lot to do for us right now.”

Grantaire frowned. “Like what?”

“Like reminding everyone what Lamarque stood for. To make sure that no one forgets that we’re still fighting for this. Even now.”

“Okay,” Grantaire said lowly and gently pushed Enjolras away from the door and further into his room. “But that doesn’t mean that you should stop eating and sleeping.”

“I did eat,” Enjolras said gruffly, still eying him warily.

Grantaire frowned. “When? Two days ago?”

“I had breakfast this morning.” Enjolras sat back down in his chair, his eyes back on his laptop screen. Apparently he’d decided to simply ignore that Grantaire was there and started typing again.

Grantaire could definitely understand why Combeferre and Courfeyrac were worried. He just really wasn’t so sure what to do about this, because Enjolras obviously wouldn’t listen to anyone. If Combeferre and Courfeyrac hadn’t managed, then how was Grantaire supposed to convince him to take a break?

Words certainly wouldn’t do much good in this case.

Grantaire remained standing behind Enjolras for a moment, looking over his shoulder, watching as he typed out a couple of tweets to government officials, to fellow activists, a few replies here and there, then Grantaire gripped Enjolras’ chair and rolled him away from his desk in one swift motion.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Enjolras asked, looking so completely and utterly offended that Grantaire couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re taking a break,” Grantaire said sternly, swiveling the chair around so he was face to face with Enjolras, whose eyes were bloodshot but staring up at him sullenly.

“I can’t. Not right now. This is too important, I have to–”

“At least take a nap,” Grantaire interrupted. “Just for an hour or two.”

Enjolras shook his head ever so slightly, but Grantaire realized that he was starting to consider it. Maybe because deep down he knew that he needed it because the coffee wouldn’t keep him awake forever and that he’d just pass out at some point.

“I’ll stay here and wake you up,” Grantaire suggested.

“You just want to make sure that I don’t get right back up again, don’t you?” Enjolras asked, eyebrows raised.

Grantaire smirked. “Maybe.” Mainly he just wanted to stick around for a little while longer, though.

“Alright, I suppose I could take a short nap,” Enjolras muttered. “Twenty minutes.”

“Thirty,” Grantaire said lowly.

“Fifteen,” Enjolras shot back, folding his arms across his chest.

“That’s not how it works,” Grantaire grumbled, but sighed eventually. “Fine, twenty.”

Enjolras scowled, but did get up and sat down on his bed. “I’ll set my alarm,” he said and picked up his phone, “just in case.”

“Right,” Grantaire said, huffing out a laugh. He quickly went to over to Enjolras’ desk to close his laptop, then he sat down at the end of his bed.

Enjolras hummed and curled up on his side, still staring at Grantaire, who in turn raised his eyebrows. Enjolras scrunched up his nose and moved over a few inches until there was enough space for Grantaire to join him.

Grantaire held his gaze for a moment, as if to ask _are you sure you want that?_ because cuddling really wasn’t part of their unspoken deal, but Enjolras only let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, his lips curling into a small smile when Grantaire sat down next to him.

“Just twenty minutes,” Enjolras whispered, cracking his eyes open to give Grantaire one more stern look, before he pillowed his head in Grantaire’s lap and his breathing slowly evened out.

Grantaire looked down at him, at the tangled blond curls, at his slightly parted lips, at the hand that was very lightly grasping at his shirt. He didn’t dare move. Grantaire wasn’t actually scared of waking Enjolras up, he was fast asleep already, but Grantaire really wasn’t so sure if there was some sort of protocol for this.

They weren’t together, but they were close, physically at least – emotionally not so much. The feelings Grantaire had for Enjolras weren’t mutual, but he knew Enjolras’ body, had mapped it out so many times that it would be hard for him to ever forget.

He knew that Enjolras liked it when Grantaire ran his fingers through his hair, even though he didn’t get to do it a lot, but when he did Enjolras always got this distant, content look on his face that Grantaire had come to appreciate.

Grantaire only settled on putting an arm around Enjolras for now, startling when Enjolras burrowed closer.

The minutes ticked by and Grantaire was starting to play with the thought of just turning off Enjolras’ alarm and letting him sleep for a little while longer, even though he knew that Enjolras would be furious with him. It almost seemed worth it.

Before Grantaire could make a decision, the door was pushed open and Courfeyrac peered inside. “It was so quiet, we were a tad worried that you two killed each other or something,” he whispered, his eyes wide. “How did you get him to _sleep_?”

Grantaire only shrugged. Honestly, he wasn’t so sure how he’d done it.

Courfeyrac grinned and gave him a thumbs-up before he quickly retreated, leaving Grantaire alone with Enjolras, who was starting to make unintelligible mumbling noises in his sleep, slowly but surely getting Grantaire to regret coming over.

When Enjolras’ alarm rang a couple of minutes later, Enjolras barely stirred, so Grantaire turned it off, along with the bedside lamp, and slid down a little, making himself comfortable. He’d just wake Enjolras up in half an hour or so.

* * *

“You didn’t wake me up.”

Grantaire’s eyes fluttered open, finding Enjolras hovering above him, looking absolutely livid. “Sorry, I was just… I meant to wake you up.” But then he’d obviously fallen asleep as well. Great.

“Did you turn off my alarm?” Enjolras asked, his elbow hitting Grantaire in the ribs.

Grantaire only let out a pained groan in reply.

“You are unbelievable,” Enjolras muttered and jumped, seriously _jumped_ , out of bed and went back to his laptop. “I slept for _three_ hours.”

“Wow, that’s such a long time.” Grantaire sighed deeply, resisting the urge to just roll over and go back to sleep. This wasn’t his bed, he was in Enjolras’ bed and Enjolras was still glaring at him, only illuminated by the light of his laptop screen. “I’m sorry,” Grantaire said, well aware that he didn’t sound like he was sorry at all, “but you could obviously use it. I mean, you didn’t even hear your alarm.”

“Because you turned it off,” Enjolras snapped.

“Yeah, after it kept ringing and you still wouldn’t wake up.”

Enjolras let out an exasperated groan and was back to typing in a matter of seconds, mumbling and grumbling under his breath all the while.

Grantaire remained sitting on Enjolras’ bed, watching him until he was sure that Enjolras had forgotten he was there. He silently stood up and made his way over to the door.

“Where are you going?” Enjolras asked, never looking up.

“Back home,” Grantaire replied. “I just wanted to see if you were alright and, well, you’re definitely not, but it’s not like you’re listening to me, so…” He trailed off with a shrug. Enjolras probably hadn’t wanted him around in the first place.

“Could you…” Enjolras chewed on his bottom lip, looking down at his fingers, now resting on the keys. “I don’t suppose you could stay for a while?”

“Stay?” Grantaire echoed. “Here? And do what?”

“I don’t know. Just stay.”

“Combeferre and Courfeyrac are here too, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Enjolras mumbled. “I certainly won’t keep you if you want to leave.”

Grantaire sighed and stepped back over to the bed. “Fine, I’ll just… sit here and be my usual charming self.”

“Please don’t,” Enjolras mumbled, sparing him an unreadable glance before he opened his blog and started writing, his fingers flying over his keyboard rhythmically, almost lulling Grantaire back to sleep.

But only almost. After nearly half an hour of pondering, Grantaire finally sat up and cleared his throat. Noisily. And multiple times.

Enjolras eventually turned around, looking at him expectantly. “Yes?”

“Why exactly am I still here?”

Rubbing his eyes, Enjolras sighed. “Because…”

“Interesting,” Grantaire muttered.

“Just give me a second to gather my thoughts, for god’s sake.” Enjolras tapped his fingers on his thighs like he couldn’t possibly keep them still. “It’s just… I know that Combeferre and Courfeyrac would keep me company, but I’m sure that they’ve already gone to bed. And they… I know that they care about this as much as I do and that they’re worried, but they always look at me like I’m about to lose it.”

“Well, you do seem like you’re about to lose it, so you can’t really blame them.”

Enjolras pursed his lips. “I just want to finish this blog entry. Then I’ll come to bed.”

“So you want me to stay here?”

“I thought we’d already established that.”

“I wasn’t sure for how long you wanted company, ‘s all.”

“A little while longer,” Enjolras muttered. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Sure, that’s…” _Unusual_. That’s what it was. But maybe he wanted to blow off some steam later on and Grantaire would certainly indulge him.

“I’ll be done soon, I think. There’s just something not quite right yet.”

“Do you want some help?” Grantaire asked.

“You want to help,” Enjolras said flatly. “You don’t care,” he added matter-of-factly, “you never believed that we’d actually change something.”

“That doesn’t mean that I don’t want you to,” Grantaire said lowly as he got up to pick up Enjolras’ laptop. He read through Enjolras’ blog entry, eloquent and brilliantly written, added a few things here and there and then handed it back over.

He watched Enjolras’ face carefully as he checked Grantaire’s changes, his expression serious until the very end, then he nodded. “It sounds… good.”

“No need to be so surprised,” Grantaire said and gave him a poke.

Enjolras opened his mouth as if to say something, but apparently changed his mind. After a few mouse clicks he finally put down his laptop and joined Grantaire on the bed again. “Thank you,” Enjolras mumbled. He drew his knees up to his chest, looking calm now, but Grantaire knew that that was just the calm before the storm.

Grantaire reached out in reply, smiling when Enjolras leaned closer, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

Enjolras pulled away much too soon. “Can we just…” He flopped own onto the mattress, pulling Grantaire with him without much force. “I’m tired.”

“No shit,” Grantaire muttered and wiggled out of his jeans before he turned to help Enjolras get off his. It was strange, going to bed with Enjolras, just going to sleep, both of them with half their clothes still on.

Enjolras was close, his warm breath tickling Grantaire’s skin. “Grantaire?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you come?”

“I heard about Lamarque,” Grantaire mumbled.

“But you didn’t come here to help,” Enjolras said, even closer now than before. “You came here because… because of me?” As Grantaire always did.

“Yes, because of you,” Grantaire said and this was probably as close to admitting to his feelings for him as he’d ever get.

Enjolras didn’t say anything for a few long seconds. “I see,” he said eventually and Grantaire had no doubt that he really _did_ see.

Grantaire then was sure that there was nothing left for him to say, the thought of going home after all now present on his mind.

The sheets rustled, then Enjolras’ voice broke the silence. “Grantaire…” That was all he said and yet it told Grantaire everything that he needed to know. Enjolras couldn’t be with him, didn’t want to be with him, at least not in the way that Grantaire wanted him to.

And Grantaire was alright with that. He had to be. “I know,” he said and gently put an arm around Enjolras, “don’t worry, I know.”

Enjolras hummed and buried his face in the crook of Grantaire’s neck.

* * *

“So, you and Enjolras…”

“Can you not,” Grantaire mumbled. He didn’t want to talk about Enjolras. He didn’t even want to think about Enjolras.

Grantaire had left Enjolras’ apartment on Sunday morning and had left Enjolras with his sheets tucked around him, still fast asleep. They hadn’t talked ever since. He knew that Enjolras was planning a protest on the day of Lamarque’s funeral, he’d read all about it on the group’s twitter and Enjolras’ blog posts and Grantaire wasn’t so sure if it was a good idea, because people would soon realize that this protest wasn’t about the death of a senator but something so much bigger than that.

Enjolras had barely even spared him a glance during the meeting last night, had only nodded at him briefly before he’d left with Combeferre and Courfeyrac following at his heels. He’d still looked sleep-deprived, but it seemed that he’d calmed down a bit.

“But there’s something going on,” Jehan said in a low sing-song voice.

Grantaire gave a noncommittal grunt.

“I just thought you might want to talk about it.”

“There’s not much to talk about,” Grantaire said quietly. “We fuck, that’s it.”

Jehan snorted. “That’s really not it.”

“It is,” Grantaire said insistently.

“For him maybe.”

Well, that was pretty much on point. Which was why Grantaire didn’t reply, only turned back to the tattoo design he was doing for Jehan.

“So, what’s the problem?” Jehan laughed. “You can’t be together because your marks don’t match?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Right.”

Jehan propped up his chin on his hands. “He’s fond of you.” He smiled. “I mean it,” he added when Grantaire gave him a doubtful look. “Those marks don’t mean anything. That’s what he’s fighting for, he doesn’t want them to constitute who people should be with. He wants everyone to be able to choose. And you do the same.”

“It’s hardly the same.”

“You help people,” Jehan said, reaching out, his fingers trailing along the planets on his underarm. He stilled when he reached Jupiter.

“Still, it’s not about the marks,” Grantaire said. “Even if we had matching marks, I wouldn’t be good enough for him in a billion years. I’ll just take what I can get.”

Jehan sighed and lazily started braiding his hair. “That’s not healthy.”

It wasn’t like Grantaire wasn’t very well aware of that, but he also wasn’t planning on changing anything about his current situation. He’d deal with it somehow.

“Are you coming to the protest?”

“Enjolras doesn’t want me there.” Grantaire shrugged. “I’d only be in the way. And I probably wouldn’t be able to refrain from telling him that he’s about to get himself killed.” He looked up, watching Jehan carefully. “You’re not going, are you?”

“Of course I’m going.”

“This is dangerous,” Grantaire muttered. “You know what they do with people who don’t stick to the rules. You’re gonna end up in jail. Or worse.”

Jehan held his gaze. “It’s worth it.” His lips gave a twitch. “But maybe it’s a good thing that you’re staying at home. If we really end up in jail, we’ll need someone to bail us out.”

* * *

Grantaire did end up going – only because he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. He wanted to be there and make sure all of his friends made it out of this protest alive.

Enjolras had only barely managed to hide his surprise when he’d seen Grantaire arrive with Bahorel, Joly and Bossuet, and had quickly turned away to talk to Combeferre. Courfeyrac had greeted him with a hug, Feuilly had given him a pat on the back.

Grantaire had decided just to watch and was now glad that Bahorel had convinced him not to bring some sort of semi-ironic protest sign. Enjolras wasn’t in the best mood, his brow always creased, his tone clipped. The second he addressed the people who’d gathered, though, he was on fire.

It was a pretty impressive crowd, Grantaire had to admit. And they were listening, agreeing, cheering.

The police showed up about ten minutes into Enjolras’ speech, because they didn’t have a permit for their protest and, well, they had announced it on every social media site imaginable, so it was hardly surprising that they were trying to put an end to this so soon.

Grantaire knew that they needed to get the fuck out of there, before they were starting to make arrests. Everyone else knew as well, people were already starting to scatter, only Enjolras was still up on the steps that he’d climbed to deliver his speech.

Grantaire looked over his shoulder and found a police officer making his way through the crowd, so he quickly pushed past everyone who hadn’t yet made their escape and reached out to yank Enjolras down the steps. “Come on, we have to leave.”

“Where is…” Enjolras looked around as Grantaire pulled him with him. “We can’t just leave.”

“Yes, we can. You’ve discussed this. If something goes wrong, everyone gets the fuck out. They’ll be fine,” Grantaire said. He’d seen Jehan flit away and he was sure that the others had scattered as well, or at least Grantaire couldn’t spot them anywhere in the remaining crowd. The same police officer from earlier was still there, though, so Grantaire quickly dragged Enjolras around the corner, down an alleyway, right, left, then right again until they’d reached a busy street where no one would be able to find them.

Enjolras took in a couple of sharp breaths, his long slender fingers curled around Grantaire’s wrist. “I have to…” One more deep breath, then he straightened his jacket. “The Musain,” he only said. That was where they’d decided to meet if anything went wrong. “Are you coming?”

Grantaire really couldn’t imagine any scenario in which this couldn’t have gone wrong. “I think I’ll…” _Go have a drink_. No, he couldn’t just leave now. “Yeah, I’ll come with you.”

He did get a drink as they waited for everyone else to appear, then he got one from Joly, later on another one from Bossuet and even though everyone was in a rather gloomy mood and Enjolras was strangely quiet all evening, by the time they left there was a smile back on Courfeyrac’s face and Joly and Bossuet were walking off arm in arm. At least they’d all made it back in one piece.

Grantaire briefly glanced at Enjolras before he left, played with the thought of asking him if there was anything he needed, but then decided against it and left with Jehan and Bahorel, nodding at Feuilly, who told them that they’d meet again the day after to discuss what they should do next. It seemed strange to Grantaire that he’d somehow become part of that _they_ , even though all he ever did was get on Enjolras’ nerves with his skepticism.

Grantaire let Bahorel and Jehan walk him home and immediately tumbled into bed. He didn’t fall asleep right away, though. He stared at the ceiling, tossed and turned restlessly for nearly an hour, then he switched on the lights and picked up his sketchbook.

He was still doodling idly when his phone rang, Enjolras’ name lighting up the display.

Grantaire frowned as he picked it up. “Enjolras?”

“I’m outside your door,” Enjolras said. “Can I come upstairs?”

“Wait, you’re here?” Grantaire asked, already hopping out of bed. “Why didn’t you just ring the doorbell?”

“I don’t know.” Enjolras paused. “I suppose it would have felt rude. I should have called before I left my apartment, but I forgot, now I didn’t just want to… ambush you.”

Enjolras had never actually cared too much about whether or not he was _ambushing_ Grantaire, but Grantaire didn’t mention that, simply buzzed him in and waited for him in the doorway, hardly even surprised when the first thing that Enjolras did was to lean down to give him a messy kiss.

Grantaire grabbed him by the hips and maneuvered him inside, kicking the door shut in their wake. He barely let go of Enjolras as he slipped out of his boots and quickly helped him out of his jacket before he pulled him into another kiss.

Enjolras hummed lowly, his fingers clenching in Grantaire’s shirt to slowly push him down the hall, nearly tripping over Hades on the way. Once they stumbled into Grantaire’s bedroom, Enjolras let go of him and quickly shucked off his jeans, followed by his shirt and his boxers, then he pressed back against Grantaire, a low needy sound escaping his lips when Grantaire’s arms came up around him.

“Are you okay?” Grantaire whispered as he eased Enjolras down onto his mattress, slowly brushing his fingers through his curls.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Enjolras said. He reached out to tug at Grantaire’s shirt, quickly pulling it off. “I just kept thinking about what went wrong and–”

“Nothing went wrong. You were never gonna get through with it in the first place.” Grantaire leaned down to kiss him. “But you tried. That’s a good thing, that you tried.”

Enjolras frowned. “Are you trying to cheer me up?”

“I figured I might as well give it a try,” Grantaire mumbled, grinding down against him.

Enjolras let out a breathless huff. “Our fight is far from over.”

“And it probably never will be.”

“One day…” Enjolras trailed off, shaking his head. “I didn’t come here to argue,” he mumbled, his fingertips slowly trailing along Grantaire’s sides, down to the waistband of his boxers.

Grantaire laughed and let Enjolras push them out of the way before he grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the mattress, bringing their hips together again and again until Enjolras was writhing underneath him, bucking his hips, seeking friction.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Grantaire asked bluntly, because really, Enjolras could probably use an opportunity to blow off steam. He let go of Enjolras’ wrists and sat back, his gaze slowly wandering up Enjolras’ chest, along the line of his neck, up to his eyes, pupils blown wide.

Enjolras looked back at him, licking his lips, obviously considering Grantaire’s question. “I’d rather…” He gave Grantaire a nudge, smiling when Grantaire got the idea and rolled off him. Enjolras quickly sat up and straddled his hips. “Like this?”

“Like this is fine,” Grantaire said, reaching for the lube with a smirk on his face.

Enjolras set a fast pace that Grantaire would have never been able to keep up, all he could do was hold on to him, bucking his hips to meet Enjolras halfway. Enjolras bent down to kiss him, all tongue and teeth, sloppy and heated, gasping for air in between kisses, eventually coming with Grantaire’s name on his lips.

Afterwards he curled up next to Grantaire, both of them still sticky and sweaty, and watched Grantaire with dark eyes as he stretched languidly. He reached out, but seemed to change his mind halfway, his hand hovering inches above Grantaire’s chest.

Grantaire raised his eyebrows in question, still too breathless to ask what he was doing out loud.

Enjolras just sighed and then lowered his hand, tracing Grantaire’s collarbones, circling a nipple, wandering down his side to his hipbones and then back up again. With his eyes closed, Grantaire let him have his way, his lips twitching every now and again when Enjolras’ fingertips tickled his skin. He knew the lines that Enjolras was tracing – he was very slowly mapping out his tattoos.  

“Why do you keep coming to our meetings?” Enjolras asked all of a sudden, his fingers stilling.

“I told you why,” Grantaire mumbled. “Why do you keep coming back here?”

Enjolras sighed. “I know that I shouldn’t.”

“That really doesn’t answer my question,” Grantaire mumbled, finally opening his eyes.

“Yeah, I suppose it doesn’t,” Enjolras said, making a face. “You need a shower.”

“So do you.” Grantaire propped himself up on his elbows, stealing a kiss. “Can I interest you in a morning shower? Maybe preceded by a morning blowjob?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“You seemed desperate to change the topic. I merely wanted to be of assistance.”

“Can I ask you something?” Enjolras asked. He sat back, leaning against the headboard. He didn’t pull up the sheets, wasn’t bothered at all that he was still buck naked. Grantaire loved him even more for it.

“Yes?”

“Does it bother you that I keep coming here?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Does it bother you that I keep coming to your meetings?”

“You’re not answering my question,” Enjolras said gruffly.

“Neither did you.”

Enjolras looked like he was about to roll his eyes, but then proceeded to stare at the ceiling, ignoring Grantaire for a good ten minutes that Grantaire spent trying to get Enjolras to enter a staring contest with him. Enjolras eventually did look at him, licking his lips. “Will you show me where your mark is?”

Grantaire could have asked why it mattered, but soon realized that it didn’t. Enjolras was simply curious, so Grantaire held out his arm, the line of planets facing up. “Guess.”

Enjolras fingers came up to point at Mars, but quickly moved on at a shake of Grantaire’s head. “What does it look like?”

“Long-ish,” Grantaire only said. _Not like a splotch of ink_. “You know,” he went on, “it always seemed pretty weird to me. Like, so many people find their soulmates, but how does that even work? How do people find each other just like that?”

“It’s just a coincidence,” Enjolras said lightly.

Grantaire hummed thoughtfully. “What if our marks matched?”

“They don’t.”

“You sound so sure.”

“I am,” Enjolras said, reaching out to slowly brush his fingers through Grantaire’s curls. “To answer your question. I like coming here. I like spending time with you.”

“Well,” Grantaire muttered, “to answer your question, I like it when you come here. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Even though I’m not…”

“Even though you’re not _what_?”

“Committed to this. Us.” Enjolras tilted his head back. “I’m just…”

“I never asked you to commit to anything,” Grantaire said lowly.

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

“I tried to tell you last week. I’m not… good at this. I’ve never been with anyone, I have no idea how to be in a relationship. You said _I know_. I thought you understood.”

“I thought you meant…” Grantaire trailed off and shrugged.

“What?” Enjolras asked, his tone sharp now. “You thought I was just using you?”

Grantaire shrugged again. He might have not put it so harshly. Anyway, he probably should have actually listened to what Enjolras had to say instead of just assuming that he knew.

“I do like you, Grantaire,” Enjolras whispered. “That’s not the problem. The problem is that we don’t…” He paused, waving his hand around as if that explained everything.

Grantaire held up his arm. “Because we don’t match? Don’t you think that’s just a tiny little bit hypocritical?”

“This has nothing to do with our soulmarks, Grantaire,” Enjolras said, his tone verging on exasperated now. “I don’t care about your mark or my mark, I don’t care if they look the same or not. All I know is that you’re irritating and that you talk a lot of shit and that you’re also brilliant and kind, even though you often do a great job at hiding it. The marks don’t matter, what matters is that we fight and that we annoy each other and that we never see eye to eye.”

“You like fighting with me,” Grantaire said.

“I do not,” Enjolras protested.

“Of course you do. I won’t go as far as saying that it turns you on, but–” Enjolras’ elbow hit him in the ribs and Grantaire let out a huff, lying back down on the mattress with a quiet laugh.

Enjolras joined him, his face only an inch from Grantaire’s. “What I’m trying to say is that I am rather fond of you.”

“That’s not what it sounded like.”

“Maybe you should have let me finish.”

“I didn’t realize that you weren’t done yet,” Grantaire said. “Then again, you’re never done.”

“See, that’s what I mean. You’re irritating.”

“And you’re so charming.”

Enjolras hooked a leg around Grantaire to pull him closer, kissing him gently. “So where does that leave us?”

“In my bed, possibly about to have sex?”

“Have you ever taken anything seriously in your entire life?” Enjolras asked. His arm wrapped around Grantaire, fingernails digging into his back.

Well, Grantaire tried not to. It was self-defense, nothing more. He smiled. “I’ll take you out for dinner.”

“Dinner,” Enjolras echoed. “And then?”

“And then we’ll have gone out for dinner. It’s something new. Maybe we can go to the movies sometime. Maybe we can go for a walk in the park.” Maybe Enjolras would get over himself, maybe things would work out between them. “And we’ll keep pissing each other off. Then we’ll have makeup sex. Relationships aren’t that complicated.”

“So we’re giving it a try?”

“If you want,” Grantaire said. He was strangely calm, as if his wildest dreams weren’t coming true right now.

“This won’t be easy,” Enjolras said quietly.

Grantaire knew that. They lived in a society that rejected the very idea of them just because they happened to have been born with different birthmarks. It was completely ridiculous.

When Grantaire didn’t reply, Enjolras spoke up again. “Do you mind if I stay?”

“Stay as long as you want,” Grantaire muttered and pulled his bedsheets up around them, pulling Enjolras closer at the same time.

Enjolras made a content noise, almost a little like a purr, and tucked his head under Grantaire’s chin, his fingers curled around Grantaire’s wrist, right above his mark.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [writing blog](http://musains.tumblr.com/) if you're interested.


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